


The Price of an Orange

by chicago_ruth



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bukkake, Crying, M/M, Punishment, Sentenced to Public Use, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-11-25 14:50:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20913899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicago_ruth/pseuds/chicago_ruth
Summary: High Judge Khamet knew what sentence he had to confer, yet the elegant slope of the criminal's neck and collar gave him pause. He didn’t want to destroy an object so beautiful that the gods must have molded it personally.He couldn’t desecrate this work of art.





	The Price of an Orange

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yen/gifts).

Khamet looked at the criminal in front of him and thought it was a shame.

It was a shame, because Teni was a handsome, able young man, and the punishment for a theft this large was disfigurement.

“Why did you steal?” Khamet asked, staring Teni directly in the eyes. One could learn a lot about a man through his eyes.

Teni, despite being held down in a kneeling position by the guards, kept his defiant look. His hair was a bit too long for his class, and after a night in the dungeon his beard had started to grow in.

From the small dais Khamet stood on, he could also see the beautiful ripple of muscle on Teni’s back.

“My sister—” Teni began, but Khamet held up a hand to stop him.

“Do not lie. We are under the eyes of the gods.” Khamet motioned with his staff as a reminder of where they were: the sacred hall of justice, where the gods watched and judged. A liar might be able to escape notice in the crowded streets of the city, but not here. “I ask again: why did you steal?”

After a brief pause, Teni answered, “I wanted to see what it tasted like.”

The onlookers remained silent, though Khamet could sense their unrest. His scribe’s reed brush even paused, as if afraid to write down such a heinous statement.

“You stole not for need, not for family. You stole for your own selfish reasons,” Khamet stated. He knew what sentence he had to confer, yet the elegant slope of Teni’s neck and collar gave him pause. He didn’t want to destroy an object so beautiful that the gods must have molded it personally.

He couldn’t desecrate this work of art.

“For the crime of stealing an orange from the Pharaoh’s gardens, you are sentenced to life as a public slave. Others may assume to take pleasure from you, just as you assumed to take pleasure from the Pharaoh’s garden.”

“No!” Teni shouted, “You can’t! I deserve scarring!” He struggled against the guards, but they gripped his arms tightly.

“I am the Lord High Judge,” Khamet answered coldly. “My judgment is absolute.” To the guards he said, “Take him away. Have him prepared for his punishment.”

Teni shouted as they dragged him away; Khamet ignored him, turning his attention now to the next criminal.

There was a long day ahead of him before he’d be able to take his own turn with Teni.

* * *

By the time Khamet was done with his work and had settled the bureaucratic affairs, the sun was setting and Teni had already been used.

The groomers had shorn his black hair short and stripped him of his beard, and oiled his skin so it shone under the orange light of the sun.

They’d placed him naked in the center garden, where nobles, officials, and workers alike were sure to see him. Presumably this location was chosen for irony as well, it being the scene of Teni’s crime.

Tied as Teni was over the side of the sturdy marble table, he had no way of escaping any advances. The ropes kept his arms and legs spread wide. A thin trickle of seed dripped down the inside of Teni’s thigh.

Khamet approached him from the front. “Good afternoon, Teni. Have you thought upon your crime?”

“Why?” Teni growled. “I know the punishment for theft. It isn’t—it isn’t this.”

“You stole not from a common man, but from the Pharaoh. You are lucky I didn’t sentence you to death instead.” Khamet pushed up on Teni’s jaw to force eye-contact, and liked how it looked. He pushed his thumb pasted Teni’s lips and settled it just on Teni’s tongue, stroking it and watching Teni’s expression morph into disgust. “Suck.”

Teni’s eyes narrowed, and that was all the warning Khamet received before Teni bit down, hard. The pain startled Khamet, though not as much as the sheer audacity of Teni’s resistance. He yelped in pain and withdrew his hand, noting with distant shock that Teni had managed to bite hard enough to draw blood.

It was that red blood, tinted orange by the fading sun, that brought the anger upon him. He’d done Teni a favor, sparing him scarring or burns or worse—and this was how he was repaid?

“How dare you,” Khamet said, calmly. “Do you think this will help your situation at all?”

“You deserve fucking worse,” Teni bit back. “You rich fucks, sitting here in your palaces, ruling over everybody, expecting us to labor for you just because you pretend the gods _chose_ you? You bleed just like any man.”

“I see now that I am not dealing with a man. You are a recalcitrant child, unable to learn from your mistakes.” Khamet sucked the blood from his thumb and stepped to the other side of Teni.

It amused him to see Teni crane his neck, his muscles straining. He’d never be able to maintain that position for long, of course, especially not after what Khamet intended to do.

He stroked Teni’s buttocks, as if he were a horse, and heard Teni’s sharp intake of breath. He allowed his fingers to linger over the sloppy hole, where men had spent their seed. A groomer must have stopped by recently, for Teni’s hole was slick with oil as well. The flesh underneath Khamet’s hand trembled, and the hole puckered in an attempt to escape his fingers.

Arousal rose in Khamet. This was what he’d been waiting for all afternoon.

“Your attitude tells me that your parents were not strict,” Khamet said. “An unruly child must be disciplined. He must be taught manners and respect.”

“You don’t know anythi—” Teni’s backtalk was interrupted by the hard slap of Khamet’s hand on his buttocks. It was a satisfying sound, spreading out across the garden.

“Fuck!” Teni shouted. “Don’t!”

Khamet brought his hand down again, though this time he allowed it to linger and stroke the heated skin. “You have no rights to demand anything, Teni. You lost those the moment you chose to take what was not yours.”

“It was just a fruit!”

Strange, that this particular act made Teni’s voice warble with fear, when he’d been so defiant before. Khamet wondered about it, and decided he liked the sound. He spanked Teni again, three times in quick succession, and was surprised when the third one elicited a sob.

“It was not just a fruit, Teni. If it were just a fruit, you could have stolen it from the markets. That is the only tree in the entire kingdom that produces oranges, a rare gift from a foreign envoy. It is the Pharaoh's prized possession.” The next blow was so hard that it left a stark imprint.

Teni didn’t answer; Khamet continued his blows. The only sounds he heard were Teni’s whimpers and stifled gasps. Clearly Teni did not wish to make his pain known, but Khamet wanted to see it, to hear it. He wanted—no, he _needed_—Teni’s remorse.

Between slaps, Khamet paused on occasion to rub the heated flesh, which grew hotter as the air grew cooler, and to rub Teni’s hole. He even pulled Teni’s balls down and lay a few slaps on those, drawing sharper gasps. When he grew bored of that, he went back to spanking Teni’s rump.

The sun set entirely, and a servant came to light the torches around the gardens. Khamet stopped to thank her, and realized then that he had worked up a sweat. His hand, too, had grown numb.

And with the flickering flame crackling in the night, he heard it: the sound of Teni crying.

Khamet clenched his sore hand into a fist and gently stroked Teni’s buttocks. “That’s right. Cry. Show me that you regret.”

He saw Teni shake his head, but Khamet heard the sharp sob as well, so he took pity on the young man and walked around to the other side again.

Teni’s face was dirtied with tears and snot, and it was the most lovely thing to behold, even in the dim torchlight.

Khamet brushed away the tears. “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m—” Teni said through hiccups, “I’m sorry. Please stop.”

He sounded sincere, so Khamet gifted him with a kiss to his brow. “That’s good. Now, open your mouth wide, Teni.”

Teni whimpered. “What?”

“You bit me earlier, but I’m sure you won’t bite again, will you?” Khamet used one hand to pull his skirt up, exposing his erection. He hadn’t even realized how aroused, how hard he was, focused as he’d been on spanking Teni. A drop of seed hung from the tip.

Khamet almost felt sorry for Teni, whose crying intensified, but he opened his mouth obediently. Khamet kept hold of Teni’s head and guided himself inside, groaning as he sheathed himself in that warmth.

Teni sobbed, and the sound reverberated down Khamet’s cock.

“That’s a good boy,” Khamet praised. “Do a good job of sucking, and I might untie you after this. I’ll take you back to my quarters, instead of leaving you out here for the servants to make use of.”

Then he began to move, heedless of Teni’s comfort. He drank in the distressed expression and the pained cries. On occasion, a loud slurp escaped Teni’s mouth, and on a particularly hard thrust, he choked; his throat closed so beautifully on Khamet’s cock that Khamet cried out as well, overtaken by lust.

He wanted desperately to spill inside Teni’s throat, but he recalled the other men’s seed lingering on Teni’s thighs, and he wanted that as well: for the world to see that he’d been here, that he’d taken his pleasure. At the last moment, he pulled out and gripped himself, giving himself two more strokes that brought him to the peak.

He spilled all over Teni’s face, and it was such a beautiful sight that he knew his judgment had been the correct one. The gods would have wanted this for Teni.

Teni’s tears mingled with the seed.

After a few moments to collect himself, Khamet righted his skirt and stepped away. He made sure his headdress was still sitting properly, then began to walk back towards the palace.

“Wait!” Teni cried. “You said—you promised—”

Khamet stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Teni, I am a civil servant. I could not possibly take special privileges. I sentenced you to service the people, and the people you shall service. Somebody shall come to wash you and feed you. I’ll let them know to bring salves for your rump as well. We would not want you to break, after all.”

And thus he turned around, ignoring the renewed crying.

If Teni didn’t want this, he should have rethought his decision to steal one of the Pharaoh’s prized oranges.


End file.
